


There's a Fine, Fine Line

by faerialchemist



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Complete, Cross-Posted in another fic on here of mine, Dyslexia, Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Flash Thompson Bullies Peter Parker, Flash Thompson Needs a Hug, Flash Thompson Redemption, Flash Thompson deserves better, Flash Thompson has bad parents, Flash Thompson is neglected, Flash Thompson-centric, Iron Dad, MCU only, POV Flash Thompson, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark adopts everyone tbh, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, but not first pov it's third limited, give Flash Thompson character development 2k20, or at least the beginnings of it, spider son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23789842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerialchemist/pseuds/faerialchemist
Summary: (Cross-posted in Hair Dye.)Flash Thompson hated Peter Parker. He knew it, Parker knew it, all of Midtown High knew it. It pissed him off to no end that Parker had everything. Sure, Parker’s life wasn’t perfect - Flash wasn’t an idiot, he knew Parker’s aunt had been having financial troubles for a long time - but that didn’t change the fact that Parker still had everything and somehow he managed to take it all for granted.And yet, Flash Thompson also knew that he would have given anything to be Peter Parker.Anything.(An introspective fic of the MCU's version of Flash Thompson, with a focus on his thoughts of Peter Parker and Peter's relationship with Tony Stark. Oneshot.)
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Flash Thompson
Comments: 96
Kudos: 462





	There's a Fine, Fine Line

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: There is extended use of expletives in this fic as well as a brief description of a panic attack. There is also one use of the r-slur; please read with caution if you are sensitive to such.

xXxXxXx

Flash Thompson hated Peter Parker. He knew it, Parker knew it, all of Midtown High knew it. Worse, Flash also knew that his hatred of Parker was completely unjustified. The kid was so kind and forgiving it was  _ insufferable _ . He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand  _ him _ .

It pissed him off to no end that Parker had everything. Sure, Parker’s life wasn’t perfect - Flash wasn’t an idiot, he knew Parker’s aunt had been having financial troubles for a long time - but that didn’t change the fact that Parker still had  _ everything _ and somehow he managed to take it all for granted.

Flash would have given anything to be Peter Parker.

Anything.

xXxXxXx

Everyone liked Parker. It was hard not to. Sure, he could be flighty and he had a bad habit of disappearing at the most inconvenient of times, but his apologies were so soft and so sincere that people couldn’t help but forgive him.

It was the most irritating thing in the world.

“Peter, practice started an hour ago!” Liz said, exasperation evident in her voice as she confronted Peter when he entered the library. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’d better have a real reason to be late this time.”

“I know, I know, and I’m so sorry,” Peter apologized, his hair noticeably messier than usual and a small cut blooming underneath his right eye. “There was an emergency with the Stark internship. I know that’s hardly an excuse, but I promise to try harder for next time.”

Liz looked like she wanted to argue, but as she stared at Peter, her gaze softened, and her arms dropped to her sides. “Oh, alright. I know you will.” She gestured to the table where all of the Decathlon team were already sitting. “Get over there before I can be mad at you again.”

Flash gaped as he watched Peter practically run over to their table, slipping into the empty seat between Ned and MJ. “Are you kidding me?” he said incredulously, slamming his palms to the table. “Parker’s late, like, every other day, but suffers no consequences for it? I was late  _ once _ and Mr. Harrington suspended me for a week!”

Liz sighed. “First of all, Flash, I am not Mr. Harrington. I do not approve of suspension as a punishment for a voluntary and already stressful after-school activity. Second -”

“Second, if you actually answered a question correctly more than once a year, maybe you’d be considered a genuine asset to the team,” MJ drawled, smirking at him. “But you don’t and you aren’t. We didn’t miss you at all during that one-week suspension. In fact, one week really wasn’t long enough. I need at least a month to properly purge your presence from my mind.”

Muffled laughter filled the room, and Flash blushed hotly at her comment. It wasn’t  _ his _ fault he was first alternate and was therefore expected to know everything about every subject while everyone else got to specialize in an area of study. “Shut up, Jones,” he snapped, aware he was playing with fire but not caring. “At least I haven’t missed practice because of period cramps.”

If looks could kill, MJ’s icy glare was like staring down the barrels of a dozen firing squads. “Try me, Thompson,” she snarled, starting to rise from her seat. “I could snap your neck without breaking a sweat.”

He’d overstepped, he always overstepped, but he wasn’t going to back down now. “Like hell you could,” he sneered. “Why don’t we -”

“Enough!” Liz shouted. “This is supposed to be a team!  _ We  _ are supposed to be a team. I expect you to keep personal issues outside of this setting. Understand?” Upon not receiving an answer, she crossed her arms and glared at the two of them, her brown eyes dark with venom. “I  _ said _ , do you understand?”

There was a pause.

“Yes,” they both grumbled, neither making eye contact with her or each other.

“Good. Now please sit down so we can continue this practice without turning my hair completely gray.”

Both did as instructed, and practice soon resumed, though the tension in the room far from dissipated. Instead, it continued to fester, and even though Flash knew it was Jones he should have been pissed at, he found himself getting increasingly angrier at Parker.

By the end of practice, Flash hadn’t answered a single question. They were focusing on science that day. He knew he wasn’t needed.

Perfect Peter Parker dominated. And it just wasn’t fair.

xXxXxXx

It wasn’t enough for everyone to like Parker. No, he also had to have an impenetrable circle of close friends - something Flash had never been able to attain. People only hung out with him because he was a Thompson. Because they liked his money, or because they knew his parents could buy out their family businesses if they so much as stepped wrong around him.

Parker’s friends? They’d probably give up their damn lives for each other.

“Ouch!”

“Shh! Shut up, Peter! You’re going to get us caught.”

“You worry too much, MJ. There’s - ow - there’s no one in the locker rooms this late after school. Besides, it’s not like we’re doing anything ba - oh my God that stings! Jesus, MJ!”

Flash felt his pulse quicken. He was crouched down outside the door leading into the locker room. Was it creepy to be eavesdropping like this? Probably. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t believe Peter “Goody Two Shoes” Parker was breaking school rules! Oh  _ man _ , it was his lucky day.

Well, he was technically breaking school rules, too, but it wasn’t his fault that his dad had forgotten to pick him up after soccer practice. It happened every time. The principal had long since gotten used to his extended presence on Fridays.

“Sorry. Gotta prevent this cut from getting infected.”

“Why does rubbing alcohol hurt so much if it’s - ouch, damn! - supposed to be healing me?”

“I am not going to answer that, Mr. ‘I’m Tony Stark’s favorite intern’, because you already know why.”

Flash could have sworn he heard Parker mutter something about ‘super-healing’ and not needing to be babied over such a small scratch, but he wasn’t sure.

“How did you get that cut, anyways?” Huh. A new voice. Probably Leeds. “Was it from… er, from your internship?”

“No, it wasn’t that.” Flash heard Peter sigh. “It’s way more embarrassing.”

Oh, this was freaking fantastic! Rule-breaking  _ and _ an embarrassing story? Flash had hit the jackpot on dirt for Parker.

“Embarrassing is usually code for ‘I almost died but I don’t want to talk about it and I haven’t told May or Mr. Stark yet’.”

“MJ’s right. Is there something… Er, I don’t know. Something you need to talk to us about?”

“I really just want to know -  _ ow _ \- why both of you sound like my therapist.”

“He’s serious, loser. And…” There was a long pause. “We won’t tell May if you don’t want us to. This can stay between us.”

The concern in their voice clawed at the inside of Flash’s throat, and hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Why was he getting so worked up over this? Over some stupid conversation he couldn’t even see? The hell was wrong with him?

“Aw, you guys are so - ouch! Damn, MJ, are you trying to kill every bacterium in this cut?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, whatever. I was  _ trying _ to say that you guys are the best and I love you so much for being so considerate, but nah, it’s honestly nothing serious. I was trying to rescue a stray cat from a tree, but she was not very happy when I failed two times in a row and swiped at my face to prove she meant business. No big deal.”

Flash left the room when he started to hear laughter, unable to listen any longer. White hot frustration burned in his stomach, but he pushed aside the nausea and continued down the school’s main hallway towards the front doors. What did he care about those losers, anyway? He could take care of himself. He didn’t need anyone to worry about him, or to be concerned for him.

And that was the only reason why no one did.

xXxXxXx

Parker’s parents were dead. His uncle had been murdered before his eyes.

Flash didn’t envy him for that.

What was infuriating was how even after enduring so much pain, so much loss, Parker still managed to be insufferably cheerful, even when his life was clearly overwhelming him. It was obvious as to why Parker could be so cheery, of course. At least in Flash’s opinion. Yes, Parker had lost his parents and his uncle, but all that had done was make what was left of his support system even stronger.

Flash jumped when there was a loud crash behind him in chemistry, turning around to see that Parker had fallen to the floor, his eyes clenched shut and his hands clamped over his ears. “What the fu -”

“He’s having a nightmare,” Ned realized aloud, he and MJ jumping into action simultaneously. “Panic attack.”

“Call May Parker,” MJ instructed as she helped Ned carefully sit Peter up, resting his semi-conscious body against the both of them. “If she doesn’t pick up, try Tony Stark or Happy Hogan. They’ll know how to help.”

Their teacher, who’d been frozen in panic, nodded and grabbed her phone out of her purse. Flash started to wonder why she had Parker’s aunt’s number, but was then distracted by Parker starting to breathe in heavy gasps as his eyes flew open.

“I don’t - can’t feel - crushing me!”

“Shh,” MJ said soothingly, grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re at school. Ned and I are both with you. You can breathe, okay?”

Peter shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. “No, no, I can’t, it’s crushing me -”

“Nothing is crushing you, Peter,” Ned replied, shifting his friend to help him sit more upright. “It’s okay. We’re here.”

Peter’s gasping gradually faded into more even breaths, if still ragged. The panic in his eyes disappeared soon after, replaced by a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

“Thank you. He’ll be waiting in the office for you.” Their teacher hung up, placing her phone on her desk. “Okay, Peter. Your aunt is on her way to the school now. She said it shouldn’t take longer than ten minutes. Ned, Michelle - will you please take him to the nurse?”

“Oh, no,” Peter started to protest, his face growing red, “that’s really not necessary. They don’t need to -”

“We will,” Ned and MJ interrupted simultaneously. They helped Peter to his feet, ignoring his insistence that he was fine, really, he just needed a moment to catch his breath, and proceeded to practically drag him out of the classroom.

“That’s what you get for sleeping in class, loser!” Flash called after them, unsure of what had compelled him to speak but knowing that he couldn’t stand the anxiety and tension radiating from his classmates any longer.

His teacher simply sighed in disappointment. ‘Disappointment’. A tone he found all too familiar. “That was uncalled for, Mr. Thompson.”

‘Mr. Thompson’. Not Flash. Not even Eugene. ‘Mr. Thompson’.

She was right. He’d had no reason to be so obnoxious. But he didn’t want to admit that to her, and instead he found himself sinking down further into his seat.

Class continued when Ned and MJ returned. About a half hour later, the water Flash had drunk after PE caught up to him, and he raised his hand for the bathroom. His teacher sighed but reluctantly agreed, telling him to grab the hall pass and to not take too long.

On his way to the boy’s restroom, he passed by the nurse’s office. The door was cracked open and he noticed Parker standing inside. Despite how every bone in his body screamed at him to keep walking, he paused just past it and hid as much as he could in the shadows, listening to the conversation inside.

“May, it was - Jesus Christ, it was so embarrassing. Everyone was staring at me and they all looked genuinely terrified and I just… God, I know they’re going to treat me differently now.”

So Parker’s aunt had arrived.

“I know, Peter. I’m sorry this happened to you, honey. But I thought your nightmares were getting better? If you’ve been holding out on me, we are going to have a serious discussion about the importance of honesty and clear communication.”

“It  _ was  _ getting better, May, I swear. At least, I thought it was. I hadn’t had a severe nightmare, much less a full blown panic attack like that in - in over a month!” A pause. Then a sigh. “Until now, I guess.”

“Well, Dr. Katherine did say that periodic attacks wouldn’t be unusual for up to a year or two later, and less than annually after that.”

“I know, May, but I can’t stand - ugh, I  _ hate _ it! I hate that it’s something out of my control! And I know  _ why  _ I can’t talk about it to anyone, I really do, but I hate feeling like I’m one person trying to live two lives. It sucks, May.”

“Oh, Peter.” She sounded on the verge of tears. “I know it hurts. And I know this isn’t what you need to hear, probably, but there - there are always things that are out of our control. And - and sometimes, our own minds fall into that category.”

“I feel… I just feel so  _ stuck _ . At least my ADHD is something other kids can relate to. That Annabeth kid, in my architecture elective - she gets it. And she’s helped me a lot with staying focused during notes and stuff. But everything else? I’m the lame kid - no, the  _ only _ kid with PTSD who seemed fine yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and, and I’m not even allowed to  _ talk _ about why or what’s going on to my friends! Ned and MJ know a little, but I can’t tell them everything. Especially not MJ. She’d figure me out in less than a second. It’s like I have a gag in my mouth that I can only take out when I’m swinging…” His voice dropped to a mumble, and Flash couldn’t make out the end of his sentence. ‘Swinging’? Must have been a metaphor or something.

“Peter…” His aunt sounded so tired, but… not for herself. “I’m sorry, honey. I hate that there’s so little I can do for you right now. But just - just know you can  _ always _ talk to me. About anything. I won’t pretend to - to fully understand everything you’ve been through, but I will listen and I will make you hot chocolate and we will binge Star Wars. We will do whatever you need at that moment, okay?”

Flash found himself shoving off the wall and walking away before Parker responded. Surprisingly - or maybe not - he felt guilty about listening in on their conversation. He tried to push their words out of his mind, but it was impossible. The frustration in Parker’s voice. The love and the pain in his aunt’s. It played in his head on loop, like a broken record meant to keep him entertained in his own personal hell.

That stupid loop made studying that night even harder than usual. The letters were scrambled on the page, the tiny font of his textbook causing him the usual headache, and the conversation between Parker and his aunt still ringing in his ears only compounded his frustration.

Studying was stupid, anyways. He maintained a B average no matter how much he read or didn’t read, so what did it matter? It wasn’t like -

“Eugene?”

Flash, startled by the sudden voice that wasn’t the one in his head, dropped his textbook on his desk and turned around to see his mother standing in the doorway of his room. “Ma’am?” he hastily managed to say. “Did you - did you need something?”

“Oh, I was just letting you know that I’m going out tonight.” She crossed over to his desk, frowning as she noted that his books were all on the same pages as when she’d briefly entered his room earlier. “I see you’ve made little progress.” She sighed. “Disappointing but unsurprising, I suppose. Keep studying until I get back tonight.” Which probably would be after midnight. Fantastic. Way to screw over his already fucked sleep schedule. “I’d really like to see your grades go up, Eugene. You’re smart, sweetie! And you shouldn’t be afraid to show it. You get your brains from me, after all.”

Flash felt his face redden. His grades weren’t  _ bad _ . At a hyper-competitive school like Midtown where kids took 7 AP classes a year to get a 5.0 GPA, a 3.5 was pretty darn good. Hell, it was perfectly average. And when it came to grades, average was fine with him. “Yeah,” he agreed, unconvincingly.

His mother sighed again, rolling her eyes and shouldering her white Gucci purse, which was in Flash’s opinion one of the ugliest bags she owned. “Okay, Eugene. Out with it.”

“What?”

“Darling, you are terribly easy to read. You get that from your father. Just say whatever it is you think needs to be said.”

Flash hesitated. He was probably going to regret this. “It’s just… Difficult to read sometimes, Mother,” he began, slowly gesturing to his textbook. Okay, he should stop there. “And sometimes I don’t finish my tests because it takes me longer to go through each problem.” Shit, why had he kept talking?! “Before I know it, time’s up.” This was not going to end well for him.

There was a long pause. Too long. Flash was afraid to look at his mother. Afraid to see the anger that would no doubt be flickering in her eyes. He willed himself to glance over, then immediately regretted that decision, wincing as she clenched her fists so hard her fake nails were probably going to leave marks in her palms.

“‘It’?” His mother said slowly, her tone icier than anything Jones had ever conjured up. “If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times, Eugene Thompson. No son of  _ mine _ is going to have some - some pretend mental disorder! You are  _ not _ a retard! It is the  _ one  _ thing your idiot father and I can agree on.”

God, he should have kept his mouth shut. Why did he think this time would be any different -

“Eugene, are you even listening to me?!”

Flash’s head snapped up at his mother’s words, his body functioning on autopilot. “Yes ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought. Now listen to me.  _ Closely _ .” She leaned towards him, and he could already smell wine on her breath. “You will sit here while I am gone. You will study the next five chapters. And you will get an A on your next test.” She paused. “No, an A _ plus _ . Thompson’s don’t settle. Do you understand me?” She waited for him to nod before continuing. “Good.” She pulled away, smoothing down the front of her satin dress. “I don’t know what the hell that doctor was going on about your freshman year. ‘Dyslexia’. Please.”

Dyslexia.

He couldn’t picture the spelling in his mind.

“What  _ you  _ have is a stubbornness issue. If you would just study more often and not complain about it, you’d be fine!”

Flash didn’t say anything. He waited for his mother to finish her rant about how mental illnesses were created by dropouts as an excuse for their inability to complete high school.

Somehow he managed not to flinch as she pressed a kiss to his forehead, forcing himself to wave goodbye to her as she left his room. She didn’t remember to shut the door.

Maybe he’d been lying to himself. Maybe he did envy Parker’s familial… misfortune.

Maybe he did wish his parents were dead.

xXxXxXx

The thing Flash hated the most about Parker, or at least the thing he  _ thought  _ he hated the most about Parker, was obviously that stupid Stark internship. Flash’s parents wanted him to intern at some big name corporation, too. Not their own, of course - that would be too easy. SI, they were fine with. Or Oscorp. Even Alchemex. But he’d never bothered to apply to them when the chances arose. He just told his parents he’d been rejected. Their expectation of this result stung a little bit, sure, but he preferred their disappointment to the anger that would surely come if he told them that he hated science more than any other subject and would rather die than intern at chemical- and industrial-based corporations.

“Hey, isn’t that kid in your class?”

Flash looked up from the essay he was trying and failing to annotate for AP Lang to their giant TV, squinting at the screen to try and figure out who his father was asking about. Damn, where’d he put his glasses? “Uh…”

“Yeah, I think he is!” his father continued, not waiting for confirmation. “Oh, what’s his name? I swear I recognize him. Maybe from your science fair?”

Flash spotted his glasses, reaching over the coffee table to grab them. When he saw who his father was referring to, he had to bite back an irritated sigh. “Yeah, he’s in my class. His name’s Peni - Peter Parker.”

His father didn’t seem to notice his near slip-up. Flash didn’t know whether to be relieved or irritated by the fact that his father wasn’t paying any attention to him.

The news station wasn’t focused on Parker - thank God, because he might have combusted if that had been the case. Instead, it seemed the camera was just panning over a few SI labs while a reporter discussed the new technology being developed there. Flash knew it was information he could never bring himself to care about.

“Peter Parker,” his father mused. He sighed, glancing at his son and shaking his head. “That could have been you, son. If you were just willing to put in a little more effort towards your passions.”

Flash felt his jaw clench. Not my passions, he wanted to say.  _ Yours _ .

But he kept his mouth shut, returning his attention to his homework. No good had ever come of arguing with his father.

A few minutes later, something compelled him to glance back up the TV screen. Anger sizzled and popped in his stomach as he watched Tony-freaking-Stark lean over Parker’s workstation, laughing at something and ruffling the teen’s curly hair.

Screw Parker. He didn’t need an internship, anyway.

xXxXxXx

Truth be told, when Flash had first heard word about Parker’s internship at SI, he told himself that he didn’t believe it. He told himself there was no way it could be true. Why? To make himself feel better, probably. Bullshit, he insisted to everyone who asked and to most people who didn’t. No way in hell Penis Parker knows Tony Stark.

At the same time, how could it  _ not  _ have been true? Parker already had everything - why shouldn’t he also get an internship with motherfucking Iron Man? The world was practically catering to him at this point.

“Everyone line up in alphabetical order,” Mr. Harrington said, clapping his hands together. The man looked more exhausted than usual. “Have your temporary ID card in hand so they can scan you in.”

Flash noticed Peter whispering in Ned’s ear, and he could have sworn he saw a green ID card in Parker’s hand rather than the silver ones they’d been assigned before his view was blocked by someone stepping in line in front of him. Stupid tall people. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. A moment later, when the person in front of him finally shifted to the side, the green card in Parker’s hand had been replaced by a silver one, and Flash had to wonder if he’d imagined it.

As they each stepped through the security-scanner thing, a surprisingly kind AI voice said their name aloud. Even though he didn’t understand anything about how this sort of tech worked, Flash thought it was pretty cool.

At least until Parker walked through.

“Peter Parker,” the AI said. There was a pause. “Hello, Peter. Would you like me to notify Mr. Stark of your presence?”

Peter, surprisingly enough, did not seem terribly embarrassed by the AI addressing him directly. In fact, he almost looked… used to it. “Hey, FRIDAY! I’m on a class field trip today. Mr. Stark actually knew I’d be here. At least I told him I would be. If he forgot, I’m sure Ms. Potts has reminded him by now.”

“Yes, I do have a record of that conversation. Enjoy your field trip, Peter.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” With that, he rejoined Ned and MJ, who were waiting for him with the rest of their class that had already been through security.

It took every ounce of self-preservation in Flash’s body to prevent himself from lashing out at Parker, the jealousy broiling in his stomach practically daring him to spit fire. He instead settled on a nasty glare, though it seemed only MJ noticed, and she just flipped him off before returning her attention to Ned and Peter.

Flash did his best to tune out most of the field trip. For one, he simply didn’t care about the inner workings of SI, but he also couldn’t stand watching Parker be fawned over by the rest of the class. At one point, their tour guide had to leave to take care of a lab emergency, and Parker was asked to take over. Not another intern, not another lab tech, but  _ Parker _ . It was like he practically lived at SI or something.

Flash must have been  _ too  _ quiet the whole time, because Mr. Harrington actually pulled him aside to ask if he was feeling okay.

He made sure to call Peter “Penis” a couple of times after that. Just to save face.

(Childish, but oh so gratifying.)

Their class was scheduled for a Q&A with Tony Stark before they ate lunch, but it was delayed because the billionaire had suddenly disappeared. During the period while she would try to track him down, Pepper Potts explained, they would be allowed to wander freely on the current level, so long as they didn’t touch anything and returned to the main room within fifteen minutes. Although her tone was warm and she spoke with a smile, the irritation in her eyes betrayed just how pissed she was at her fiancé.

Following this announcement, Flash watched as Pepper Potts proceeded to pull Parker to the side of the room. While he was too far away to even begin to make out exactly what they were saying, he had a gut feeling it involved Tony Stark, based on the way Parker kept laughing and Ms. Potts appeared both exasperated and amused.

Not wanting to watch their interaction any longer, Flash turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He went through some side door and into a long hallway. He was still on the same floor, so it was fine. He didn’t really know where he was heading. He just knew he needed to get away. And he’d only changed direction once, so it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to find his way back.

Flash ended up in a room covered wall to wall with paintings. The door had been closed but not shut, and catching a glimpse of the  _ Mona Lisa _ compelled him to enter. Had it not been for the skylights in the ceiling, the room would have been incredibly creepy.

As he slowly began to walk through, he realized that he recognized most of the artwork. They were famous pieces, sure, but he couldn’t help but feel a smidgen of pride at this fact. Dyslexia made words a bitch, but he’d always had less trouble with pictures.

Most of the paintings were copies, of course. Amazingly detailed and intricate and undoubtedly super freaking expensive copies, but copies nonetheless. Not even Tony Stark could own the  _ actual _ Mona Lisa. And even if he did own it, it’d have to be displayed in a museum or something. If it had been up to Flash, all historically-relevant artwork would be on display. Private collectors were dicks.

Flash stopped in front of a painting by Eugène Delacroix that he remembered talking about in his Western Civilization class. A goddess-like woman stood amongst a group of armed Frenchmen, raising a brightly-colored French flag above her head. Delacroix was his favorite Romantic painter, and it genuinely was just a funny coincidence that they shared a name.

“Ah,  _ Liberty Leading the People _ ,” a voice behind him said, causing Flash to jump at the sudden sound. “Good choice. Beautiful piece.”

Flash started to agree with whoever it was, only for his voice to catch in his throat as he turned around and realized  _ holy shit Tony Stark was talking to him what the fuck _ . He finally managed to squeak out a weak, “Uh huh.”

“Revolutions always inspire a lot of artwork, don’t they? Like the painting of Washington crossing the Delaware,” Tony Stark continued, either not noticing or not caring that Flash had frozen in place. “Sucks for the monarchs in power at the time, of course. They get fired, or die. Or both, sometimes.” He chuckled. “Marie Antoinette just couldn’t make friends, could she?” He shook his head. “Too bad. It would have been interesting to see how Austrian heritage would have affected future French rulers and the balance of power in Europe. Wouldn’t it?”

Flash realized the question was directed at him. He opened and closed his mouth twice like a stunned goldfish before he managed to get a hold of himself and respond. “Uh - yes sir. But” - was he really about to correct Tony Stark, Jesus Christ he was losing his mind - “this painting actually isn’t from the French Revolution. I mean, not the first one. The one everyone thinks about when they hear ‘French Revolution’, with Robespierre and the Reign of Terror. Not that one.” He swallowed, nerves dancing in his stomach. “ _ Liberty Leading the People _ was painted to reflect the July Revolution of 1830. Before the watershed year of European revolutions in 1848.” Flash held his breath when he finished, waiting to be told off for the correction.

There was a long pause. Flash was ready to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness when the billionaire started laughing. He clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “Nice catch, kid! I didn’t know that.”

Although he was pretty sure the man was lying, Flash found himself relaxing. If only slightly.

“I take it you like art, then?” Tony continued, adjusting the blue-tinted glasses on his nose. “What do you think of this part of my collection?”

“I  _ love  _ art, sir,” Flash answered honestly, a little embarrassed at just how honest he sounded. “Van Gogh and El Greco are my favorites, though it’s impossible to deny that Da Vinci, Raphael, and Michelangelo were the greatest artists who ever lived. And - and your collection is amazing!” He was gushing, but he figured it was impossible for him to feel any more embarrassed than he already did. “Most are replicas, but some - I think - are originals, aren’t they?” He pointed at a piece whose style looked familiar. “That’s an LKH painting, right?” LKH was a local artist. He’d recently followed them on Instagram because their watercolor skills were straight up to  _ die  _ for.

Tony chuckled. “Good eye. Yes, I bought that from LKH this past weekend. I think they were a little surprised when I walked into their store.”

Well, duh. Normal people didn’t just ‘run into’ Tony Stark. Of course it had been surprising for them.

Flash was tempted to ask the billionaire why all of these paintings were trapped in this one room, but decided against being so upfront with the question. He settled with a more subtle, “I can’t believe you don’t have these on display. They’re all so amazing.”

Tony didn’t respond. Maybe Flash had been  _ too  _ subtle with his query.

“You must be part of the field trip from Midtown.”

Flash blinked at the sudden topic change. “Um - yes sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Eugene. But everyone - well, most people call me Flash.”

Tony snapped his fingers, startling him. “Flash Thompson?”

Uh oh. Why did Tony Stark know who he was? “Er, yes sir.”

Wait - oh, shit. He had a feeling he knew why. And for once, it had nothing to do with his parents’ fame.

It was far, far worse.

“Peter has talked a lot about you.”

Fuck. There it was.

Flash winced at the thought of Parker ranting about him to Tony Stark, of all people. Well, karma was a bitch. He supposed he deserved it. “Right. We… have a few classes together.” And they hated each other’s guts. “And we both do Decathlon.” And he made Parker’s life a living hell.

“Uh huh.”

Flash glanced up at the billionaire, and it was then he understood the real reason Tony Stark was called Iron Man. It wasn’t the suit, which wasn’t made of iron anyway. It was the iron hardness in his eyes, a steely gaze that somehow knew everything and could see right through anyone.

Flash had never been more terrified.

But the look disappeared as quickly as it came, and before he knew it Tony Stark had grabbed his arm and was grinning again, chattering aimlessly about Peter and his accomplishments as an intern and how pleased he was with the kid’s work while he escorted Flash back to the main room on the floor. Flash had never been so willing to listen to someone praise Peter Parker, though his brain clocked out halfway through.

What he did register, however, were the man’s parting words.

“You seem like a smart kid, Mr. Thompson,” Tony said as he stopped outside the door leading back into the Q&A room. “I get the feeling someone is telling you different - don’t listen to them.” He smiled at him, but there was no warmth behind it. “And try not to take your frustrations out on other people. Like Peter Parker. Okay?”

Flash winced. It was terrifying that the billionaire could read him so well. “Yes sir. I’ll - I’ll do better.” The words were familiar on his tongue, something he told his parents every day, but the sincerity behind them was… almost foreign.

“Good. And hey -” Tony Stark’s chilly smile transformed into a genuine grin. “Keep studying art, kid. You seem to have a knack for it.” He winked at him. “Twenty bucks says you have a future in art history, huh? I can practically smell that PhD.” With that, he waved goodbye before disappearing down the hall, leaving a stunned Flash Thompson in his wake.

Maybe he  _ did  _ regret not applying for an SI internship.

xXxXxXx

Flash didn’t like, much less _want_ , attention from other people. At least, not per se. He put on a show because he was a Thompson, and because his parents liked to see him creating a public image. His Instagram account was more of a Spider-Man fanpage than it was a self-promo account, admittedly, though he did kinda like calling his followers the ‘Flash Mob’. He thought it was pretty clever. Plus, more than half of his followers were bots, so it wasn’t like he had to try hard to entertain them.

What Flash truly hated was the idea of  _ fame _ . Maybe the only thing his parents had done right was doing their damn best to keep him out of the spotlight, especially when he’d been younger. They still did it now, even after their divorce. Maybe it was because they didn’t want to share the limelight with him. But he didn’t argue, he didn’t question the decision, and in fact he secretly thanked them for it.

He didn’t want to be famous, no.

But he couldn’t lie that it’d be nice to be  _ noticed _ .

(And not just by Spider-Man. Sexuality was a crisis he was still too terrified to handle.)

Parker was  _ always _ noticed. His friends, his aunt, Tony Stark, every single teacher at Midtown. Yeah, it was partially because he was super nice and a genius and the school ascribed every science-related victory or award to him alone, but it was also because…

God, Flash didn’t even know. Charisma or something.

“Look at this awesome watch Mr. Stark gave me!” he overheard Peter say excitedly as the teen slid into the seat next to Ned in the cafeteria.

Flash was sitting only a few places over, with his usual obnoxious lunch group. He was tempted to get up and leave, but something kept him glued to his seat. Jealousy, probably.

“Oh man, that is  _ sick _ !” Ned replied eagerly. “What does it do?”

‘What does it do’? It was a freaking watch. It told time. Flash rolled his eyes. What an idiot.

“It mostly keeps track of information about my vitals. Mr. Stark said something about me having no regard for my own personal safety?” Peter shook his head, shrugging. “Anyways. The coolest part is that I can use it to talk to Karen!”

Ned’s eyes widened. “No way! Like outside of your sui -” He was interrupted by a hacking cough from Peter, and he looked at his friend with concern.

Maybe he imagined it, but Flash could have sworn he saw Parker glare at Leeds. It was hard to tell, though, considering he was watching them out of the corner of his eye.

“Right, sorry,” Ned apologized. “So, you can talk to Karen outside of your… internship?”

“Yep! Or, I’ll be able to soon. Mr. Stark said there’s a few things he needs to tweak before he can activate her in full. I’ll introduce you to her as soon as I can, though!”

Who the hell was Karen, anyways, Flash found himself wondering. Not that it really mattered - the lunch bell rang a few minutes later to dismiss students back to class, and Parker and Leeds’s conversation had long since shifted to the upcoming Decathlon tournament.

But as Flash walked by to throw away his plate, he couldn’t help but… catch one final snippet.

“Do you know why Mr. Stark made you the watch?” Ned asked curiously.

Peter shrugged. “No idea. My birthday isn’t for ages and Christmas is still like two months away.” He smiled, running his thumb over the watch. “He tries to hide it, but Mr. Stark is always doing nice things for people. Getting them gifts and stuff. He knows the birthday of every single one of his employees! Can you believe it? It’s absolutely insane considering that there’s like - like a  _ thousand  _ people who work for him directly.”

“Whoa. That is so cool of him.”

Flash didn’t want to listen anymore. He kept on walking, not stopping until he’d arrived back in class.

That night, he knocked on the door to his mother’s bedroom. “Mother?” he called. “Can I come in?”

There was a sigh from the inside. “If you must. And it’s ‘may’ you come in, Eugene. Not ‘can’.”

Flash ignored the snideness of her tone and entered the room.

“What do you need from me? You know I have that stupid Primrose mixer to attend tonight,” she said impatiently as she rummaged through one of her four open jewelry boxes. “Honest to God, where did I put those emerald studs? They’re the only set that matches this dress.”

“I was wondering if I could throw a party Friday night,” he said, trying to keep his tone light and amiable. “Just some kids from Midtown.” A lie. Kids from all over the city always showed up. “No alcohol.” A half-truth. He wouldn’t be providing any, but there were always people who brought some. “And no drugs.”  _ That _ he meant. People knew better than to bring that kind of garbage to a Flash Thompson party.

His mother didn’t answer right away, and he wondered if she’d forgotten he was there. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

Finally, she put her jewelry box down on her vanity table and turned to face him, a small frown creasing her lips. “Shouldn’t you be asking your father this? He has weekend custody.”

He’d expected her to say that. “No, the two of you are attending a charity gala Friday night, remember? In Albany. You didn’t want to drive home that late, so you were planning to stay in the city overnight.”

His mother snapped her fingers. “Right! I’d almost forgotten.” Then she groaned, her upper lip curling in disgust. “Ugh. I can’t believe I must be amicable with your father all evening. I deserve an Oscar for the performance I have to put on around that man.” She sighed. “Yes, Eugene, you may have your little party. You know which cleanup services to call if things get out of hand. Now leave. I need to finish getting ready.”

Flash lingered in the doorway. He wanted her to ask  _ why. What for. What’s this party about. _

But she didn’t.

She never did.

She’d remember his birthday after the fact, of course. So would his father. She’d make up some story about his gift getting delayed in the mail because really, Amazon was terribly unreliable, wasn’t it? Or she’d hide money in his room later that week and then chastise him for not finding it on his actual birthday.

It was the same thing every damn year.

And even though Flash knew it would only make him more miserable, he couldn’t help but think about what Peter Parker’s birthdays were like.

His aunt would be there. Leeds and Jones, too. Hell, Tony Stark would probably attend, and they’d all give Parker expensive gifts. Expensive not because they cost millions, in the case of Stark. Expensive because they’d taken the time and the effort to choose a gift they knew he’d like.

Flash fell backwards onto his bed, wiping stray tears from his eyes.

Fuck. Sometimes it just wasn’t fair, was it?

xXxXxXx

Flash hated being onstage. He hated the idea of success and victory riding solely on his shoulders. Of course, that meant Parker thrived under those kinds of conditions, right? Because Parker was great at anything and everything! The universe just wanted to rub his perfection in further, stinging worse than salt in an open wound.

They were at the National Decathlon Semi-Finals. If they won, they’d be a shoo-in for the Finals and would get a bye week while the Wild Card round was happening. If they got second, they’d be guaranteed a spot  _ in  _ that Wild Card round.

They’d made it to the top two of the Semi-Finals. MJ had very pointedly let them know beforehand that she expected and would accept nothing less than a first place win. Seemed a bit unfair, in his opinion, but he didn’t dare argue with Jones.

Parker, of course, was on fire, buzzing in and answering every science-related question and probably 75% of the math ones before the other team even had a chance to blink. At least, that’s what it seemed like to Flash. It pissed him off, but he couldn’t complain. His desire for Midtown to win outweighed his hatred of Parker.

“What element has an atomic mass of 35.453?”

“Chlorine!”

“How many legs do spiders have, including legs with modifications?”

“12!”

“What are the names of Shakespeare’s three ‘problem plays’?”

“ _ All’s Well That Ends Well _ ,  _ Measure for Measure _ , and  _ Troilus and Cressida _ .”

Jones had actually answered that last one.

Flash, on the other hand, was yet to answer  _ any  _ questions. He was filling in for Leeds, who’d called in sick that morning with the flu. It wasn’t even that he didn’t know any answers! He was just paralyzed under the blinding light of the stage and couldn’t bring himself to press the buzzer even when he wanted to. And sometimes he  _ did _ want to, because sometimes he actually  _ knew  _ the answer.

MJ glared at him each time the other school got a question right, as if he was somehow at fault for the other team’s success. Surely he couldn’t be expected to know everything about every subject.

Or maybe he could. Jones was more unreasonable as captain than Liz had ever been, in his opinion.

The competition was neck and neck. An hour had passed since the start, and even Parker was starting to falter, clearly doubting himself as the questions got harder. He didn’t hit the buzzer as quickly as before.

“We are down to one question remaining,” the announcer said, sounding way too cheerful for someone who’d spent her entire day asking teenagers about a bunch of useless trivia. “This question will be open discussion, and the team that answers it correctly wins! If neither team gets it, we will move on to our tiebreaker round.”

“In other words, no chance of two winners,” Flash heard MJ mutter. He still didn’t know why she’d sat him next to her. Probably to supervise him. “We  _ have _ to get this question right. We’ve come too far to lose now.”

No pressure.

“Okay. Final question.” The announcer cleared her throat. “In what style did Michelangelo paint  _ The Last Judgement _ on the altar of the Sistine Chapel?”

Flash froze.

Holy  _ shit _ , he knew the answer.  _ He  _ could give Midtown the win. Fuck, he didn’t even give a damn about the glory! Jones was right - the team had worked too hard this year to fall behind so early in the competition.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to have to look at the audience as he spoke. He willed every speck of confidence and strength he’d ever had to the forefront of his mind, telling himself to get it together and just buzz in.

His thumb slammed down on the top of the button -

“Oh, wow!” the announcer said with a cheerful laugh that sounded incredibly fake. “Close timing! But Bellamy High, you buzzed in a half-second first! What is your answer?”

What the hell? Was this a joke? He’d been a  _ half-fucking-second _ too late?!

“High Renaissance,” someone at the other school’s table confidently said.

Flash’s eyes widened. His heart leapt into his throat and he felt like he was going to throw up.

_ They were wrong _ .

The announcer winced. “I am so sorry, but that is incorrect.”

Holy shit, that meant -

“Midtown, you have thirty seconds to steal, starting now.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Flash noticed MJ turned to Suzan, their team’s history expert, and not-so-quietly hiss to her, “What’s the answer? This is our chance!”

Suzan shook her head, and she looked close to tears under MJ’s aggressive stare. “I - I don’t know! I thought it was High Renaissance, too!”

“20 seconds, Midtown.”

MJ cursed. “Then we’ll just have to brace ourselves for the tiebreaker round. It’ll be rough, but we can still win this.”

Peter glanced at Suzan. “Are you  _ sure _ you don’t know?”

“Honestly! I have no idea.”

“10 seconds, Midtown.”

The ghosts of confidence past, present, and future must have all taken pity on him, because there was no way Flash had just stood up and shouted, “Mannerism!” of his own free will. He’d never have the guts to do it.

But based on the way his entire team was staring at him with their jaws on the floor… Shit, maybe he had.

Parker was looking at him like he’d grown a second head. Seemed like a distinct possibility. It’d be easier to explain than him voluntarily answering a Decathlon question  _ and  _ getting it correct first try. Jones looked like she was ready to tear his head off - or both his heads, if Parker was correct. But he was sure, really sure, that mannerism was the answer -

“That is correct!” the announcer cheered, throwing her sheet of questions into the air. “Midtown is the winner and will progress straight into the Finals!”

All hell broke loose. Flash was startled to find himself swamped by a massive group hug of everyone on his team as they were screaming and cheering his name - Parker and Jones included. The next few minutes were a blur, with everyone congratulating everyone and shaking hands with the other team and Flash could have sworn he even heard Jones tell him that she would not be forgetting his interest in art and - Christ, there was so much going on it was impossible to take everything in.

He’d helped Midtown win. He’d  _ actually _ helped his team win! It had been terrifying and there was no way he would be able to eat anything anytime soon if he didn’t want to throw it back up, but he’d  _ done _ it. And who knew? Maybe he’d be able to answer more questions in the future, too.

He felt… good.

Gradually the Midtown group said their goodbyes to one another and dispersed into the crowd, finding their parents, relatives, and friends who’d travelled to Houston to attend the tournament.

Flash knew his parents weren’t there. For one, they’d told him that morning that they couldn’t go, just before Ned had called in sick. But that wasn’t unusual. They had told him his freshman year when he’d joined Decathlon that they wouldn’t attend any tournament unless it was the Finals -  _ and _ he had to be guaranteed a seat at the table. These requirements had turned out to be mutually exclusive the past two years, and honestly, Decathlon was the one event he couldn’t blame them for missing.

Which was why it was even more surprising to see his father walking across the room in his direction.

Part of Flash wanted to jump up in excitement and call his name because he couldn’t  _ believe _ he was there holy crap, but his father was even stricter about public appearances than his mother was. Instead, he forced himself to sit still, and tried not to seem too eager as his father approached him.

Of course, his excitement died on his lips the moment his father was close enough for him to see the disappointment in his eyes.

Flash desperately wracked his brain, trying to figure out what he could have done wrong before he’d even spoken to the man.

His father sighed, stopping in front of him. “One question, Eugene?  _ One _ ? And it was about the Renaissance?” The distaste with which he spoke made it sound like he was talking about the Black Death instead. “Expect to double down on your calculus and chemistry studies when you get home. We can’t have Mr. Parker stealing all of your thunder, can we?”

Flash wanted to protest, wanted to insist that finally, for  _ once _ he didn’t give a damn about Parker and what he did, but his father silenced him with a look before he could speak.

“Sit here and wait. I need to take this call.”

Like a robot with no free will, Flash did exactly as instructed. Taking direction - something he struggled with in school but excelled in at home. How ironic.

As he waited, his attention was captured by none other than Peter Parker darting across the room and practically flinging himself into the arms of -

Tony Stark?

They weren’t standing terribly far away, and Flash couldn’t stop himself from watching their interaction unfold in front of him.

“Whoa there, kid!” Tony said with a laugh as he stumbled backwards from the sheer force of Peter’s hug before immediately returning the embrace. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I didn’t think you would make it!” Peter said, though his voice was muffled by the billionaire’s suit. “Especially since May got called in on a shift last-minute and Ms. Potts was worried about a meeting you had today and Happy is sick and -”

“Are you kidding me?” Tony interrupted, breaking the hug and ruffling Peter’s hair, his brown eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Mr. Parker. I made that very clear to Pepper, so she agreed to reschedule my meeting.” He grinned at him. “And guess what what, kid? You  _ killed _ it up there! I swear, you answered some questions even  _ I  _ didn’t know the answers to.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Really?! Because I was totally freaking out at the end and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone by getting something wrong -”

“Psh. Everyone gets nervous, Pete. Don’t feel bad about that. You should be proud you kept answering questions even despite your nerves.  _ That _ takes guts. And, fantastic bonus, you got the questions correct, too.”

Peter beamed at him. It was the happiest Flash had ever seen his classmate. “Thank you so much, Mr. Stark!”

He didn’t protest as Tony pulled him into another hug. “No need to thank me, kid.” He held Peter tighter. “God. I am so proud of you.”

Flash felt his breath catch in his throat, and he had to look away before any more tears could well up in his eyes. He stared at his feet when Tony and Peter walked past him, Peter talking excitedly about this new ice cream place he couldn’t wait to try while Tony chuckled in amusement.

It was stupid, Flash decided. No, he didn’t know what ‘it’ was. But ‘it’ was still stupid.

(His jealousy? His hatred? His mother, his father?)

What hadn’t been stupid, though, was answering that final question. That - That had been  _ brilliant _ . And he was damn proud of himself.

He didn’t need anyone else to tell him.

xXxXxXx

Flash hated the spotlight. He hated parties, unless they involved getting wasted with his friends. He hated having to be out with both of his parents at the same time. Needless to say, he also hated experiencing all three of these nightmares at once. Which was why he hated the stupid formal event he was currently attending with his parents at SI.

Weirdly, it was in the same giant room that the Q&A during his field trip had been in. He hadn’t noticed at first - the room was so packed he could hardly make out any details of it. Not to mention he was keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He did not want to make any unnecessary eye contact with the uber-rich people here. Even so, something felt different… He just couldn’t place a finger on what.

“Eugene, stand up straighter!” his mother hissed, poking his back. “I don’t know why Tony Stark took such care to invite you to this, too, but you will not be embarrassing the Thompson name while you are here.”

Flash bit back a sigh and did his best to stand taller without having to lift his head.

“Better,” his father said with something akin to but not quite approval. “It seems your mother does sometimes know what she’s talking about.”

“Oh, shut it.”

“Now now, there’s no need for such hostility, dear.”

Flash tuned out his parents’ bickering, aware they could go on arguing for hours over nothing. Although they were kind of right - it  _ had  _ been a weird and highly tense moment when an invitation to Tony Stark’s annual SI Expo after-party had arrived in the mail with both his parents’ names and his own on it. Especially because it read  _ Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson _ , a nickname he knew his mother and father despised. Upon seeing the invitation, they’d practically cornered him and demanded to know what the hell he’d said to Tony Stark on his field trip.

It was kind of nice that they’d remembered he’d been on a field trip that month.

He lied, of course. He insisted all he’d done was introduce himself and nothing more.

They believed him, easily. They didn’t know him well enough to know when he was telling the truth or not.

Flash brought his eyes up from the floor to briefly scan the group, looking to see if there was anyone he knew at the event. There was a girl he’d hung out with a few times before at some of his parents’ parties. Piper, he was pretty sure her name was. Her dad was some famous movie star. They’d bonded over their hatred of the socialite scene.

But she was nowhere to be found. Just his luck.

Flash then figured out what was so different about the room. Last time he was there, the walls had been empty.

Now, they were covered in paintings. Paintings he recognized from the room where Tony Stark had practically ambushed him.

He liked the change.

“Well, if it isn’t the guests of honor!”

Speak - er,  _ think  _ of the devil and he shall appear, apparently.

“Mr. - Mr. Stark!” his mother stammered, placing her hand on Flash’s shoulder and gripping it so tightly he thought her nails might rip through his button-down and pierce his skin. “It is truly an honor to be here.”

Tony chuckled. “Please, Ms. Thompson. No need for formalities.”

_ ‘Miss’? _

Time seemed to slow around Flash. How did Tony Stark know his mother was single? His parents had kept their divorce completely out of the public, supposedly for the sake of his childhood. They told him they wanted to raise him with as normal a family as possible. Hadn’t happened, of course. But how did -

“I admire your room decor,” his father said, interrupting Flash’s thoughts. Huh. For him, that was laying the flattery on thick.

“Really?” Tony smiled at him. “Thank you. A good friend of mine told me a while back that there was no point keeping all these beautiful paintings locked up, and I finally got around to putting them on display for tonight.”

Flash’s heart skipped a beat. Tony glanced down at him and winked. His parents didn’t seem to notice.

“Your friend was right,” his father continued. “You have some exceptional pieces of artwork here.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at the comment. “Is that so? Forgive me, Mr. Thompson, but I wouldn’t have taken you as an art person.”

Flash managed to disguise his laughter as coughing at the thought of his father standing beneath a painting and trying to admire it. What an image.

“Anyways,” Tony continued, offering his parents a charming smile, “it has been lovely chatting with you, truly, but do you mind if I steal Flash for a bit?” Upon noticing their evident confusion, he added, “I’d like to introduce him to some of my interns. He deserves to be able to talk to people his age at a stuffy event like this.”

His mother snapped back to reality before his father. “Of course!” she exclaimed, practically shoving him forward. “ _ Eugene _ would be delighted to accompany you.”

Flash cringed at her use of his real name. Maybe he imagined it, but he was pretty sure he noticed Tony’s shoulders stiffen at her comment, too, which… actually made him feel a bit better.

But if Tony did take offense to her correction, he said nothing about it. Instead, he merely smiled at her again before taking Flash by the arm and pulling him through the crowd away from his parents.

“Am I - Are you actually going to introduce me to your interns?” Flash found himself asking.

“Yes,” Tony replied, “but not yet.” He ended up stopping near one of the corners of the room, beneath a painting Flash recognized from the last time he was here:  _ Liberty Leading the People _ . They stood for a moment, staring at the painting, with neither speaking.

Then Flash blurted out, “How did you know my parents were divorced?”

Tony glanced down at him. His glasses had the same blue tint as before. “I did my research,” he finally said. “After our first meeting. I’ll admit - they worked hard to keep that information hidden. Took FRIDAY a full five minutes to dig it up.”

Flash didn’t know if that was a compliment or an insult.

“Anyways,” Tony continued, “this is not about your parents. I wanted to talk to  _ you _ . So - how are your art studies going?”

Flash bit his lip. “Um. Right. Pretty good.” He wasn’t going to admit to Tony Stark that lately he’d given up on reading, including the art history factbook he’d bought the day after the field trip because he’d felt so inspired. The spaces between the letters had ended up being too small, and the words all looked like blobs. “Thanks.”

Tony nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You know, I saw you at Peter’s Decathlon competition. You did well.”

Flash’s stomach clenched at Parker’s name. He tried to keep his expression neutral. “Oh. Thank you.”

“I’m serious. Not many people know  _ The Last Judgement _ is mannerist. It was impressive.”

Flash didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded.

Tony sighed, starting at him a moment longer before returning his attention to the painting. “So. Dyslexia, huh?”

Flash stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No need to deny it, Mr. Thompson. I told you - I did my research. You were diagnosed with dyslexia at the late age of 14 because your parents kept delaying testing for it, correct?” He didn’t wait for affirmation to continue. “Yet, since then, there has not been a single appointment scheduled for you with a counselor or a therapist to help you learn the ropes. High school has been hard for you, hasn’t it?”

Flash knew his face had gone red up to the tips of his ears. That always happened when he was embarrassed. “Mr. Stark, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tony snorted. “Wow. Same thing you said two minutes ago. That’s the best you could come up with?” He shook his head. “Well… I hope you know that there’s no shame in having dyslexia. Maybe your parents tell you otherwise, kid, but you shouldn’t listen to them. They have sticks up their asses. I hate to be the one to have to tell you that, but  _ God  _ are they all prim and proper. Can’t believe you haven’t suffocated yet from having to live with them.”

Flash couldn’t stop himself from snickering. “Yeah, they’re insufferable.”

There was a pause before Tony continued. “I have a friend who specializes in learning disorders. I would be happy to set up an appointment for you. Like I said, kid. You’re smart and you shouldn’t have to deal with this by yourself.”

The tension in Flash’s shoulders was starting to ease. “Would you tell my parents?”

“Not if you don’t want me to, kid.”

Flash hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I’d really appreciate that.”

“Great,” Tony said with a smile. “Her name is Dr. Leah Nguyen.” He chuckled, a fond expression coming over his face. “You know, she actually helps Peter with his ADHD. Helped me for a while, too. I bet you and Peter could bond over your struggles with reading.”

Parker’s name caused Flash to stiffen up again. “Actually, you know, I think I’m good,” he said through gritted teeth. “I can handle it on my own.”

Tony took off his glasses and tucked them into his suit pocket. “Are you sure you don’t want help?” He gave him a knowing look. “Or… does your refusal have something to do with Peter?”

“I’d - I’d rather not have to hang out with Park - Peter. Sir.”

“Really? Why not?”

“It’s - No reason. We just… Don’t get along.”

“‘Don’t get along’? Nothing else?”

God, Flash couldn’t stand his pestering. “That’s it. Sir.”

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me, Mr. Thompson, but I’m finding it hard to believe you.”

“Fine!” Flash snapped, turning to glare at him. “It’s because I hate him, okay?” His fist clenched and he had to resist the urge to rip  _ Liberty Leading the People _ off the wall. “He has - Parker has  _ everything _ . I know he’s lost a lot of shit, too, but he has no fucking clue just how much he  _ does _ have. I hate him. I do.”

Shouting at Tony Stark while insulting his favorite intern was probably a bad idea. In fact, Flash would even go so far as to classify it a ‘terrible’ idea. But  _ damn  _ was it cathartic.

“I see,” Tony mused. He didn’t sound as pissed as Flash had expected him to be. “Are you sure?”

Flash blinked. “What?”

“Are you sure you hate Peter?”

Flash started to respond that yes, of course he was sure, but his voice died in his throat under Tony Stark’s cold, calculating gaze. “I…” He shook his head, trying to reassert himself. “Yes. Yes, I really hate Parker. He - He fucking pisses me off.”

Was he suicidal, talking to Tony Stark like this? Undoubtedly.

Tony stared at him a moment longer. Then his gaze seemed to soften. “No. I don’t think you hate him.”

“I -”

“I’m detecting jealousy, yes. Envy, obviously. Definitely some resentment, too. But no hatred.”

“How - How would you know what I feel?” Flash demanded. “You barely know me!”

Tony shrugged. “Sure. I don’t know you.” His gaze hardened again, and Flash flinched. “But kid, I  _ was _ you.”

“You - what?”

“A dad with impossibly high expectations that never bothered to be around.” Tony began ticking things off on his fingers. “A mother who, bless her heart, never seemed to have enough time. So much money and so few friends, no  _ real  _ friends, to show for it. Smart as hell but with… inhibitions that made learning ten times harder than it was for most people. Not able to prove your own worth to anyone.” He stared at Flash again. This time, the hardness in his eyes was gone. It had been replaced by… sadness. “I get it, kid. I do. And that’s how I know you don’t hate Peter.” He gave him a cold, almost cruel, smile. “If you did, Thompson, I would’ve had you expelled from Midtown before you could blink.”

Flash knew, somehow, that the man wasn’t joking. Desperate to turn the conversation away from himself, he snapped, “How do you even know Park - Peter, anyways?” He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, at least a little bit, before continuing. “I mean, I saw the two of you at Semi-Finals. How he ran up and hugged you. Acted like you were his… dad.” Saying the word made his heart ache.

If Tony was surprised by the subject change, he didn’t show it. “Peter is going through a lot right now,” he finally said. “Stuff no one else, not even May, can understand. I took him under my wing. Gave him the… internship. I just wanted to help him get through high school.” He laughed, though there was no humor behind it. “If you had told me a year ago that he’d become the constant presence in my life that he is today, I would have called you crazy. I never, not even once, expected that I would start feeling like he was my k… Like he was part of my family.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “But I don’t regret it. I’m terrified I’ll screw things up somehow, but I don’t regret it. Never.” He glanced down at him. “Is that what you wanted to know, Thompson?”

Flash tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, you did ask,” Tony said with a chuckle. “But mostly because I know that you, Flash, are a good kid. You have deep-rooted insecurity issues and a painful inferiority complex, yeah. Sometimes you can be a huge, quote, ‘dickwad’. But you are still a good kid. You love art and history, and I bet you love reading, too, it’s just so difficult that you tell yourself you don’t.”

Flash wasn’t sure how he felt about Tony Stark, of all people, being able to read him so easily. “Maybe.”

“Mm, that sounded an awful lot like a ‘yes’ to me.” Tony clapped him on the shoulder before putting his glasses back on. “I think that was a pretty good heart-to-heart. But I’ve kept you here long enough. Let me show you where the other teens are hanging out.” He took him by the elbow and began steering through the crowd, though not back the direction they came.

Flash hesitated as he was being pulled along, but willed himself to ask the question that had been nagging him the entire time. “Why… Why did you bother introducing yourself to me during that field trip in the first place?”

Tony chuckled, still navigating their way through the crowd. “Let’s just say that Peter’s enemies are my enemies. Count yourself lucky that you did not make it onto that list.”

Flash gulped. Right. “Thank you, sir.”

They stopped in front of a table that several teenagers were indeed crowded around.

“Oh, before I forget.” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gray business card, offering it to Flash. “That has my personal email. Let me know if you want to set up a meeting with Dr. Nguyen. I’m sure the two of us can come up with a story that satisfies your parents, too.”

Flash accepted the card, a genuine smile forming on his lips for the first time that evening. “Thanks.”

Tony grinned at him. “My pleasure, kid.” He clapped him on the shoulder again. “Keep up your studies, Mr. Thompson. Next time we see each other, I want you to tell me ten facts about Dadaism, alright?”

Flash laughed. “Yes sir. I think I can manage that.”

Tony winked at him, then disappeared into the crowd. Flash watched the area where he’d been standing for a moment longer before turning around and bracing himself to have to mingle with strangers.

He came face to face with none other than Peter Parker.

“Flash?” Peter said, taking a surprised step back. “What are you doing here?”

Flash bit back a snarky ‘what’s it to you’ remark, instead taking a deep breath before saying, “My parents and I were invited.”

Peter nodded in understanding. “Oh, right.” He offered him a tentative smile. “Sometimes I forget your family is big in technology.”

Flash snorted. “Wish I could forget.” He cleared his throat as he realized how awkward that could turn the conversation. “Anyways. Are you here because of your internship?” He figured he shouldn’t bring up Tony Stark’s admission to feeling like a parental figure to Parker. That’d be weird.

Peter laughed. “Yeah. Something like that.”

As Flash stared at his classmate, a wave of guilt overwhelmed him. “I’m sorry I’m such a dick to you,” he apologized, the words spilling out with an honesty that was unfamiliar to him. He’d never felt so vulnerable, and he really wasn’t sure he liked it. But he kept going. “I know that’s not enough to make up for anything, but I - I really am. Sorry. I really am sorry.”

Shock was blatantly written all over Park - all over Peter’s face. “Okay,” he said slowly, suspicion evident in his eyes as he tried to read if Flash was telling the truth. “Thanks, I think.”

There was a long pause. Flash had no idea how to break the silence.

Then Park - Peter gave him a genuine smile. “Hey, you were really impressive with your save at the Semi-Finals. I was bored afterwards and googled that fact about the Sistine Chapel, and it is  _ not _ common knowledge. I didn’t know you knew so much about art.”

Flash’s face reddened at the compliment. “Oh - uh, thank you. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“It’s awesome is what it is.” Peter grinned at him. “MJ is totally going to kill me for telling you this, but she’s thinking about having you at the table for Nationals!”

Flash’s eyes widened at the thought of both his parents attending a Decathlon competition and seeing him do well. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope! You just have to really show her at practice that you know as much about art and art history as she already thinks you do.” 

Flash was amazed at how easy talking to Park - talking to Peter was turning out to be. They danced around some topics, sure, like family and friends, and there were plenty of weird silences, but all in all, he couldn’t deny that he’d actually li… he hadn’t minded the conversation.

They weren’t friends. Not by a long shot. But the nauseating envy he was so used to feeling? It was gone. And he hoped, really, truly hoped, that he’d never feel it again.

Flash Thompson hated parties. He hated being in the spotlight. He hated his parents’ indifference towards him and their unrealistic expectations.

But maybe, just maybe, Flash Thompson did not hate Peter Parker.

(In fact, maybe he even li… No. No way. Not yet.)

xXxXxXx


End file.
